“Precisely,” Iosef said.
“But clearly, it was,” Julius countered with a smile. “Somewhere, at sometime in the distant past, some ancient people discovered aluminium in sufficient quantities to produce these beautiful—and no doubt expensive—pieces of jewelry. It may confound our reason as to how or why it could have been so, but we cannot deny the evidence.”
“I suppose not,” Iosef agreed.
Julius finished his glass of Cognac in a long gulp and said, “Well, Prince…Iosef, I believe I have a solution to suit us both. I see no reason why we cannot share our knowledge. Let us agree to meet sometime in the near future, and we can examine both artifacts together.” He gave Iosef a warm smile and added, “And perhaps I might teach you some of the intriguing things I have learned while studying the Slavs and their Horned Serpent.”
Iosef sighed softly, recognizing Julius’s tone and expression, which had assumed a hint of the paternal.
He thinks me a naive student he can educate, Iosef thought. It almost made him laugh. Still, it was an easy means of gaining access to Julius’s knowledge and to the amulet.
Iosef was shaken from these thoughts by Luka, who—under his breath and concealed behind that act of drinking his Cognac—commented in Svanish:
“Yes, and after that, we can tell ghost stories.” Luka scoffed at the very notion. “I shall notify Ekaterine. She would be delighted to attend.”
“Don’t give her any ideas,” Iosef answered softly.
CHAPTER SIX
January, 1899
Varanus drummed her fingers against the desk as she peered into her microscope, irritated beyond all measure.
“Well, I have learned two things,” she said to Ekaterine, who sat reading some uninteresting Gothic novel by the window.
Ekaterine looked up from the book—something by an Irishman titled Dracula—in the midst of a giggle. She paused and turned to Varanus.
“We shouldn’t eat the biscuits?” she asked.
It was a piece of biscuit that Varanus was using for her examination.
“No,” Varanus said, sighing at Ekaterine. “And do put that thing away,” she added, referencing the book. “You shouldn’t read rubbish.”
“It’s rather funny,” Ekaterine said. “It’s about a vampire in Transylvania.”
“Don’t be absurd, Ekaterine,” Varanus told her. “Vampires are Serbian. Transylvania is in Hungary and populated by Romanians.” She paused and returned to the matter of greater importance. “This is the most powerful microscope that I have ever engineered, its lenses expertly crafted at great expense, and yet I can discern that there are things still to be seen far beyond its reach.”
“How…exciting?” Ekaterine ventured.
Varanus frowned. “Frustrating,” she corrected. “As much as I enjoy a challenge, I fear this is rather on the verge of impossibility. There must come a point where a thing cannot be magnified any further, and I fear I am staring at that point as we speak. I have reached the very limit of optics.”
“It sounds exciting,” Ekaterine said.
“The thrill of discovery is, alas, marred by its inability to progress further,” Varanus replied. “I hoped this new microscope would be sufficient for my studies.”
“And…?”
“It isn’t.”
Ekaterine sighed and set her book down. “What is it for? Other than examining biscuits, I mean.” She paused and suddenly her eyes opened wide with realization. “It’s for the water, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is,” Varanus replied, a little surprised that her friend had only just realized it.
“Doctor!” Ekaterine exclaimed in protest. “It’s forbidden! I thought all of that was behind you!”
“Scientific progress is never behind one,” Varanus said, “only ever ahead, waiting to be discovered.”
“If you keep pursuing this matter, you may die!”
“Science has been known to result in death,” Varanus agreed, “but I escaped execution the last time. I am certain I have nothing more to fear in that regard.” She glanced back at her microscope and added sullenly, “An inability to achieve the results I require, on the other hand.…”
“Doctor!” Ekaterine repeated, rushing to her side. “You promised!”
Varanus sighed. Though she remained committed to her work, Ekaterine’s distress troubled her. And she did understand why. Five years prior, she had taken samples from the waters of life, which gave the Shashavani their immortality, and subjected them to countless tests to discern their nature. When the heads of the Shashavani Order had learned of her transgression, she had been imprisoned with the possibility of execution—before a timely civil war had given everyone more important things to think about. Varanus had never been able to take more samples since, and it seemed Ekaterine had assumed that she had “learned her lesson” and abandoned her illicit research.
“But one does not give up on scientific discovery so easily, does one, Liebchen?” Korbinian’s voice murmured in her ear. Startled, Varanus looked to the side and saw him sitting on the edge of the desk. Korbinian smiled at her and continued, “Still, you cannot blame your friend for worrying so. You may now have friends on the Council that rules your order, but even they would balk at treating the source of their power like some chemical to be sampled in a beaker.”
“Perhaps,” Varanus murmured under her breath, though she knew that he was right.
“What was that?” Ekaterine asked.
More loudly, Varanus replied, “I promised that I would not take the water in secret. I remain confident that I will eventually convince the Council to support my experiments. The question of our nature is vitally important, Ekaterine.”
“I know that,” Ekaterine said. “But why bother yourself about the matter of a microscope before permission is given?”
Though she tried to hide it, Ekaterine’s tone sounded as if she doubted such permission would ever be given.
“Because as soon as I have that water in my grasp again, I intend to unlock the secrets that previously eluded me,” Varanus explained. “There were things in that water just clear enough to be noted but too small to be examined. From what little I saw, I can anticipate how powerful a magnification would be required based on the examination of other objects.” She looked at her microscope and grimaced. “Now all that remains is to find a microscope capable of the task, which I fear this one is not.”
Varanus paused as her ears detected a faint noise from the direction of the foyer. It was too quiet for Ekaterine to notice, but as Living Shashavani, Varanus had no difficulty hearing it. She listened more carefully and heard the distinct sound of the front door being opened.
“I do believe we have guests,” she said, rising from her chair, “though I wonder who it may be. Are you expecting anyone?”
“Not until next Thursday,” Ekaterine replied, looking puzzled.
“Who are you expecting on Thursday?” Varanus asked.
“Friedrich’s friend. I’m having my portrait painted again.” Ekaterine sounded very pleased.
Varanus sighed and shook her head. “Artists, Ekaterine? Not in the house.”
“She’s a very clean and well-behaved artist,” Ekaterine insisted.
“There’s no such thing,” Varanus replied dryly.
But her curiosity had been pricked by the new arrival, and she hurried out into the upstairs hall. Crossing the length of the townhouse, Varanus came to the landing above the foyer and saw that the footman they employed had just answered the door and had shown in their mysterious guest.
The stranger was tall and dignified, and his elegant clothes spoke of his great wealth and station as did his poise. He was fortyish, blond, and rather handsome to Varanus’s eyes, so she took a moment to admire him on point of principle. The stranger looked around the foyer with an appraising look as the fo
otman took his hat and coat, and after a moment, his eyes turned upward and he spotted Varanus watching him. A smile crossed the stranger’s lips, and that smile grew broader as Varanus placed a finger to her lips for silence.
“I shall inform the Prince of your arrival, Your Lordship,” the footman said. “If you would care to wait in the sitting room—”
“No, I will wait here,” the stranger replied, his tone authoritative but not unkind.
“As you wish, My Lord.”
The footman bowed and withdrew from the room. When he had gone, the stranger approached Varanus until he stood just below the landing, looking up at her with mischief in his clear blue eyes.
“Good afternoon, Fräulein,” he said, bowing his head politely.
“Good afternoon to you as well, Fremder,” Varanus replied, smirking a little.
She began walking along the landing toward the staircase, running her fingertips along the wooden railing. The stranger turned and walked alongside her on the floor below, matching her step for step but never taking his eyes from her. The smile had not left his lips since the footman’s departure, and it grew a little as they walked.
“It is not often we receive visitors,” Varanus said. “Had I known, I would have dressed for the occasion.”
Having been at her work, Varanus wore only a simple skirt and blouse, certainly nothing appropriate for entertaining. Surely one of Ekaterine’s tea gowns would have been more presentable, even in front of a stranger. And her hair was in disarray, only some of it successfully tied back with a ribbon, the rest falling about her shoulders in a most unkempt manner.
“Nonsense,” the stranger answered. “If you will pardon my saying so, I think I prefer you as you are.”
“Wild and untamed?” Varanus asked, amused at the stranger’s lack of decorum. It was such an uncommon thing to find in a German aristocrat.
“As Nature intended,” the stranger replied.
Varanus reached the stairs and descended, carefully watching the stranger as he turned and continued to walk along parallel to her, never once looking away.
“I doubt very much that any of us are as Nature intended,” Varanus noted. “Only rarely does one find bears wearing shoes, does one, Fremder?”
“If you will pardon me again, Fräulein, you are hardly a bear, not by even the furthest stretch of the imagination.”
“You will recall, I haven’t pardoned you yet for the first time,” Varanus replied.
She came to the foot of the stairs and walked to the center of the foyer. The room, like all the rest of the house, was carefully shrouded against the daylight by thick curtains, but the gas lamps burned brightly and kept away the shadows that flitted about in the corners. The stranger followed her as she walked, keeping a respectful distance.
“So I did notice,” he said. “I fear that I have gambled upon your being especially charitable, Fräulein. You have kind eyes.” There was a pause as his own eyes twinkled with mischief. “If you will pardon my saying so.”
“Perhaps you should tell me your name, Sir, and then I will feel more inclined toward forgiveness.”
The stranger bowed slightly and answered, “I am Julius Johan Graf von Raabe, and I am at your service, Fräulein, at least until Prince Shashavani deigns my company.”
Graf von Raabe. A count.
“Babette Varanus Shashavani,” Varanus replied, offering her hand, which Julius took with gentle fingers and held longer than was appropriate. Again, Varanus found herself amused.
“ ‘Babette,’ ” Julius said, as if testing the word. “ ‘Varanus.’ What an interesting name.”
“It’s Latin,” Varanus replied.
“Well that explains it,” Julius agreed, smirking. “And you are a Shashavani like the Prince? You are perhaps his…”
“Wife,” Varanus replied.
“I see…” Julius said. Still smiling, he released Varanus’s hand and placed a finger to his lips. “I must confess, Princess, I had not expected that.”
“No doubt you mistook me for one of the servants,” Varanus suggested. “Perhaps Princess Shashavani’s social secretary.”
Julius chuckled and said, “Nothing of the sort, Highness, I assure you. I thought perhaps you were his sister.”
“Alas, the Prince’s sister is upstairs, reading a book about Romanian Serbian Hungarians.”
Julius raised an eyebrow. “That sounds rather convoluted.”
“Well, it’s by an Irishman,” Varanus explained. She motioned to the upstairs. “I could fetch her if you like.”
“Oh, I would hardly wish to disturb her in the midst of Irish literature,” Julies said. “And besides, you have yet to pardon me for my rudeness, so you certainly cannot leave yet. I would be distraught at the thought that my offending you had gone unforgiven.”
“Very well, you are pardoned for complimenting me out of turn, Count von Raabe,” Varanus said.
The corner of Julius’s mouth turned up in another smirk.
“Forgiven so quickly?” he asked. “Are you so eager to be rid of me.”
Varanus paused a moment to consider this and answered, “Not yet.”
Julius chuckled. He looked away for a moment and glanced around the foyer. “It is rather dark in here,” he noted. “I confess, I had not expected that. Is this the fashion in Russia?”
“Oh yes,” Varanus replied. “Princess Shashavani and I are starting a whole new trend. Naturalism as the absence of natural light. It will be in vogue all across Europe by 1900, you will see.”
“How very Romantic,” Julius said. “But tell me…I thought that you were the Princess Shashavani.”
“We…um…” Varanus answered. “It’s complicated.”
“I enjoy complications,” Julius assured her.
“My sister-in-law is a princess by blood; I a princess by marriage. In Saint Petersburg they call us the Princesses Shashavani, and they can never tell us apart.”
Julius looked into Varanus’s eyes as he replied, “I find that most unlikely. You do not seem to be the sort of woman one would ever mistake for another.”
Varanus gazed back into Julius’s eyes for a few moments, finding them rather pleasant to observe. Despite her intentions to the contrary, Varanus found the rest of the room slowly slipping away into darkness and shadows, leaving only the two of them standing there, gazing at one another. Even the beating of the pulse in Julius’s throat, tantalizing though it was, could not distract Varanus from his clear blue eyes.
“Shall I pardon you again, Count von Raabe?” she asked softly.
“I would be most grateful,” Julius said.
The noise of the footman approaching in the adjoining hall broke Varanus from whatever reverie seemed to have taken both of them. She glanced toward the doorway as the footman entered. He seemed surprised at the sight of her—Varanus only rarely left her rooms except on business, and the servants almost never saw her—but he quickly bowed his head to her before addressing Julius:
“My Lord, Prince Shashavani awaits you in his study. If you would care to follow me.…”
Julius nodded. He turned toward Varanus and said, “An honor to meet you, Your Highness. I hope we shall speak again.”
“That would be most agreeable, Count,” Varanus answered.
Julius smiled softly and then turned to follow the footman. Varanus almost gasped at the sight of Korbinian standing directly behind where Julius had stood a moment before. A trickle of blood crept from the corner of his eye as he slowly approached Varanus.
“Having fun, are we Liebchen?” he asked.
* * * *
Iosef was in his study when the footman arrived with his guest. At the sound of footsteps, Iosef marked his place in the book before him with a strip of cloth and closed it. He rose and turned toward the door a moment before it opened.
The
footman looked startled at the sight of him standing. The young man had only been with them a few months. Perhaps he had not yet become accustomed to the peculiarities of his employers. Perhaps this was for the best.
“Count von Raabe, Highness.”
“Of course,” Iosef replied, as the footman ushered Julius von Raabe into the study. “Thank you, Pravec. That will be all.”
The footman nodded. “Very good, Highness.” Having performed his duty, he quietly withdrew and closed the door behind him.
There was a long silence as Iosef and Julius studied one another. After a few moments, Julius smiled and bowed his head to Iosef.
“Good afternoon, Prince Shashavani.”
“Ah,” Iosef corrected. “Iosef, if you please, Count von Raabe.”
“As you wish, Iosef,” Julius replied, “if you will afford me the same courtesy.”
“Of course, Julius,” Iosef said. “And how are you?”
Iosef did not normally engage in pleasantries, but it seemed a satisfactory approach.
“Quite well, quite well,” Julius answered. “In fact, I have just met your wife.”
“Indeed? And how is she?”
It was a sincere question: absorbed by his studies, Iosef had not spoken to Varanus since the day before.
“In high spirits,” Julius said. “And apparently your sister is enjoying a book about Romanians. No…Hungarians. No, wait.…”
It took Iosef a moment to recall that Varanus had taken to passing Ekaterine off as her sister-in-law, but he blinked twice to bring that memory back into focus and nodded.
“Ekaterine is prone to reading whatever takes her fancy,” he said. “Recently she has become enamored of tales about the Goths…though why that would involve Hungarians I cannot imagine.” He waved the matter away. “Regardless, it is good of you to come, Julius. I see you received my letter.”
“Oh yes,” Julius said. “I was very pleased to receive your invitation.”
“But surely,” Iosef replied, “we already spoke of collaboration when last we met.”
“True,” Julius said, “but we are both aristocrats, my good Iosef. The high and the mighty say much. Adhering to it is…less certain.”
A Sojourn in Bohemia Page 5
